Cirno & Purple Stevehttps://cirnoandpurplesteve.wordpress.com
Put a dose of adventure in your MondaysThu, 17 Aug 2017 13:23:07 +0000enhourly1http://wordpress.com/https://secure.gravatar.com/blavatar/cb02b1559c17f55a5c89187d8f88449a?s=96&d=https%3A%2F%2Fs2.wp.com%2Fi%2Fbuttonw-com.pngCirno & Purple Stevehttps://cirnoandpurplesteve.wordpress.com
Chapter Eleven: The Greatest Liehttps://cirnoandpurplesteve.wordpress.com/2011/05/02/chapter-eleven-the-greatest-lie/
https://cirnoandpurplesteve.wordpress.com/2011/05/02/chapter-eleven-the-greatest-lie/#commentsTue, 03 May 2011 01:55:59 +0000http://cirnoandpurplesteve.wordpress.com/?p=127]]>[I’m sorry about skipping the last two or three weeks. Had a bunch of school shit to attend to. Over now, though.]

[Refresher: Cirno is trapped in a room with the ghost of Purple Steve at the demons’ stronghold. A voice from an intercom prepares to ask Cirno some questions. The intercom’s dialog is written in black, and Purple Steve’s dialog is in purple.]

—

3 hours later.

“I talk to him more than anyone about what I’m feeling, you know? It’s like… no one really knows how to take shit seriously.”

“Or rather, they don’t want to.”

“Right. They can’t handle it. Like it’ll make the world so much harder if they admit they can think.”

“He works part-time, but he’s only thirty. In our race it takes thirty-five years to fully reach adulthood, so he’s still living with his parents.”

“Okay, so you’re both basically teenagers.”

“Right.”

“See, that’s sort of the issue here. It’s not a problem to have a peer as a mentor, but having an older, more learned mentor can make you evolve faster—mentally, or as a person. Not that I think you’re mistaken in learning from him, but it’s always worthwhile to learn from multiple people. And part of it’s also that Mark himself doesn’t have an older mentor. He’s got a lot of knowledge, clearly, but once you catch up to him, you’ll both need to learn on your own.”

“Yeah, that’s true. I think he gets a lot of what he knows from researching people he admires and just the way he looks at life.”

“Mhm. I mean, again, it’s nothing wrong—that’s how you’ll do most of your learning anyway; but just having someone to reconcile your ideas is great. And it doesn’t need to be one guy—people who know their shit can come in all forms. Growing up, my brother was mostly the one who taught me everything, but after he died I had a more diverse group of people I came to for advice.”

“Seems like you have a lot of interesting friends.”

“Yeah. I owe some of that to my brother—well, really, a lot of that to my brother—because I knew older people through him—like Claire. There were also some cool older guys in my D&D group from high school.”

“I really wish I had some friends like that.”

“Well see, what’s great about cool older guys is that a lot of them really like helping younger people, especially if they see a lot of potential in them. If you don’t act like a dumb kid around them and get serious with them, then they’ll see that in you.”

“But how do I even run into someone like that? Like… in my everyday life, I don’t run into anyone like that.”

“But that’s the point; you want to change your everyday life, right? If you remain stagnant in your lifestyle, then you can’t expect to change your mindset either.”

“Mm.”

“Steve’s right, you gotta get out there, and it’s not even really that hard. For one thing, you ran into me just in your daily life, right?”

“True.”

“And see, when you’re young, something like this seems like a once-in-a-lifetime meeting, but as you start talking to more smart people and put yourself out there, you’ll end up having those encounters all the time and really meet some amazing people.”

“Word.”

“My suggestion is, just be adventurous, and don’t be afraid of awkwardness. Strike up conversations with that guy who you’ll be sitting next to for the next fifty minutes before work or something, especially if he seems friendly. Or go to places where you can meet people who share your interests, so you can connect over that and then strike up a friendship from there. Claire’s always talking about how the internet is a great place to meet people, but she always seems pissed off at the ones she talks to—but that’s just her, and it’s always worth a shot if you’ve got access to a computer. Do you?”

“Awesome! See, that’s the kind of opportunity you can exploit and take some chances. I mean, even if it doesn’t work, you won’t lose anything.”

“Right. Man, you’ve got me excited now, I already wanna try it!”

“Haha, I’m glad to hear that. Hey man, I should give you my phone number or something; we can talk about this further, maybe help you through the steps once you get started.”

“That sounds amazing—yeah, I’d love it if you’d do that for me!”

“Cool. Bring me a paper and a pen and I’ll write it down for ya.”

“Alright.”

The intercom went silent.

Cirno motioned with his head, signaling to Purple Steve.

About a minute later, the door opened and a big red demon stepped through the frame. Before he had time to open his mouth, there was a loud crackle and pop as electricity shot through his body, paralyzing his nerves and causing him to fall to the ground.

“I just stunned him. Let’s get out of here.”

“Cool shit.”

On his way out, Cirno took the pen and paper from the demon’s hand, wrote down his name and phone number, then stuffed them into the demon’s pocket before hurrying down the hall.

“There’s an elevator that barely gets used which can take you to where I am. Make a left at the corner, then straight shot ahead.”

It was my mistake, having assumed that the demons’ plan involved attacking major corporations, rather than inhabiting them. I wasn’t surprised when a pair of cops had approached me after walking into the Chase Tower and telling the receptionist that demons were planning to attack it, but I was definitely surprised when the cops turned out to be the very demons I spoke of.

Said demons promptly stripped me of Purple Steve, passing him to a nearby office worker, and hauled me into an elevator, then took me up about forty floors and shoved me into the emergent hallway. One of them opened the first door on the right—which happened to be gigantic and made of metal—then goaded me (with significant force) to enter.

I can’t tell you if the room was fashionably designed or not, because immediately upon entering it, the absurdly heavy door was slammed behind me with a sound that you’d find familiar if you’ve ever been bitch-slapped by Odin, and there was no light to speak of.

[Mental note: if I ever make a band, I’m calling it Bitch-Slapped By Odin.]

The room I’d so raucously entered was very small—about two Purple Steves long on either axis—and devoid of decoration (unless it was painted or something; my eyes never quite adjusted). It took me no time at all to realize that I’d been imprisoned.

Luckily, I’d been in situations like this before. About ten years prior, I’d gotten into a fight with my best friend, Fullmoon Scarlet, and he’d locked me in a dimly-lit room with the gored and decaying bodies of his parents for a week. Once I got used to it, the experience actually became quite relaxing and gave me time to come to terms with with the deaths of my own parents. Ever since then, whenever I got emotionally distraught over things, like my brother’s suicide, the double-homicide of my twin younger sisters, and my first girlfriend getting pulverized by a giant boulder, I would lock myself in a small, dark room (decaying bodies not necessary, but recommended as an audience and as sustenance for the unpracticed), and meditate on it for a week or two.

Because of those experiences, I was well-acquainted with the procedures necessary to survive in a tiny dark room for however long I’d need to. My only worry was that every other time I’d been imprisoned, it’d been by myself or a friend, so I could count on escaping at any time. These guys probably weren’t going to give me such courtesy.

Knowing that panic would be counter-productive, I calmed myself and assumed a meditative position while considering the possibilities. Some three or four hours later, I was surprised by a sudden voice echoing from the walls.

“Cirno! I finally found you!”

“Purple Steve?! Are you here? No, then I’d be able to see; where are you?”

“I’m in another part of the building—one of the basement floors. They’ve got me on some sort of sterile operating table along with a lot of other weird-looking weapons.”

“How come I can—”

“Hear me? Because I’m disembodied energy. I can pretty much be anywhere.”

“Shouldn’t the walls be glowing or something?”

“Don’t misunderstand the nature of my being—I’m not a lightning bolt at all times. While I can remain in the form of a lightning bolt and travel as one through conductive elements, I can also leave that form and travel elsewhere.”

“So right now you’re in the walls? Can you control the door or anything?”

“No, god damn it, pay attention! I don’t just ‘control’ physical objects. It wouldn’t be in this door’s nature to simply open by itself, so I can’t cause it to do so. Lightning is a unique case where controlling the amount of energy being poured into it can strengthen or weaken it.”

“Okay, I think I get it now.”

“I’ve tried to melt this table, but whatever it’s made of doensn’t fuck around. It isn’t conductive, either. As a pole covered in lightning, I’m currently immobile.”

“Damn. And I haven’t been able to think of an escape plan yet, either.”

“Same here. I’m totally stumped on this one.”

The room fell silent as Purple Steve and I returned to our thoughts.

Not five minutes later, I was slightly-less-surprised by yet another sudden voice echoing from the walls.

“Cirno Excalibur.”

“Yyyyeeesss?”

I figured there must’ve been a speaker installed in the ceiling, but I couldn’t tell.

“Good, we can hear one-another. I’m going to be asking you some questions.”

From now on, CAPS will only be published once a week as opposed to twice weekly for a number of reasons. The first is that I’d like CAPS to run for at least a year—if things go according to plan then the story will end much earlier at this rate, which I don’t want. Secondly, I want to make the individual chapters longer, as well release more of them on-time, so I’ll be publishing them on Monday, giving me all week to work on them. The point of publishing twice weekly in the first place was so that I could quickly establish the base of the story, so with that now accomplished, I feel I can slow things down a bit.

Additionally, I’ve made some edits to the earlier chapters. All of Purple Steve‘s dialog is now in purple and Blue Bob‘s dialog is now in blue. Also, I didn’t do my research during chapters three and four, wherein I wrote that Cirno roared down Route 66, which I thought was the road that leads into Las Vegas. Because CAPS is supposed to begin in Nevada, and not, oh, California, this has been changed to Route 95. I apologize for the confusion (but not for the other confusions).

I guess while I’m at it I may as well spell it out for those who hadn’t yet figured it out or been told: CAPS takes place in 1998.

However, he certainly didn’t expect his hiking staff to start speaking to him.

By all rights, climbing a mountain during a snowstorm on purpose, he deserved to die—even just for evolutionary purposes. It’d been hard for him to even reach the snowy part of the mountain, given his decision to climb it using only a staff for a tool.

Theoretically, people could survive under those conditions for a decent amount of time if they came prepared, knew proper emergency procedures, and could find a way to get help.

Climbing a snowy mountain in shorts and a t-shirt met none of those criteria. Kelvin was dead in about fifteen minutes—

—that is, until his staff happened to come to life and electrocute the living shit out of him.

His heart jolted back to life and his body suddenly became warm as electricity surged through his veins. His eyes opened upon the glowing blue stick in his right hand.

Kelvin was silent for a second, then turned to look at the staff, ignoring its lack of a face.

“I don’t see the point of it all. I spent so much time trying to figure out what I want to do, and at the end, I didn’t want to do anything. I figured the best way to get it over with would be to just die on a mountain somewhere.”

The staff waited a second to respond.

“That’s weak, bro.”

“Oh, fuck off, I’ve heard enough of that ‘don’t do it’ spiel.”

“Naw, man, like, you don’t even know. You’re gonna miss like the coolest thing this planet will ever see.”

“…go on?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here, bro. I was sent here ’cause these crazy alien demon dudes are gonna destroy the world and stuff.”

“That sounds like a load of shit.”

“Bro, you’re talking to a lightning-bolt-staff-thing.”

Kelvin stirred a little.

“Well, what do I care about all that? I don’t really care if the world gets destroyed.”

“Duuuuude, who said you had to fight against it? It’s not my job to help save the world or nothin’—I’m just here for the show!”

“So, what, you want me to help the alien demon things to take over the world?”

“Yeah, man, it’ll be wicked cool! Those guys are way stronger than your guys—it’ll be like just chaos on Earth. If you’re plannin’ to die anyway, you might as well go out in the middle of all that, man!”

Kelvin mulled over this for a second, but then shook his head angrily.

“But I’m weak! I don’t have any special abilities to fight an intergalactic war!”

“BRO. SERIOUSLY. MADE OF LIGHTNING.”

“You’re saying I can use you to fight with?”

“Actually, that’s your only option, bro. Thanks to you killing yourself, your heart doesn’t work regularly anymore. You gotta have me around to keep you alive. BUT! Like, I can make you super-strong and give you super-powers and stuff.”

Again, Kevin gave it some thought.

“…I guess I could give it a shot…”

“Yeah, man! It’ll be great! We’ll travel all over the country and find the demon dudes and do crazy stuff! It’ll be way cooler than killing yourself.”

“How will we find the demons?”

“I can sense ’em, man. All you gotta do is walk around with me and I’ll find ’em. You won’t even have to eat or drink or take a dump or sleep or anything you have to do normally, ’cause I’ll be takin’ care of all that.”

Kelvin slowly took the staff in his hand and rose to his feet. The snow flurries that would’ve bombarded him melted before they could reach his body. He felt more energized than ever before as the electricity coursed through his body.

Izaya was among the older members of the Dungeons and Dragons group that I hung out with up through high school. He’d always been a conniving bastard, though none could argue his intelligence—nor his sadism. Over the past few years, he’d worked as a black-market information dealer, running his operation from the take-out window of a former Wendy’s restaurant. We pulled to the window to place our order.

“Hola! If it isn’t Cirno! And Claire also.”

“Yo, Izaya,” I greeted from the passenger’s seat. Claire had a distinct hatred for Izaya, so she tried to pretend that she wasn’t there. “We’ve got some stuff to ask you about.”

“Of course. Usual fee.” I tossed him a stack of bills wrapped in a rubber band. He pocketed it instantly.

“Alright, gimme the scoop.”

“I need you to have a look at these maps and see if you can tell me what they mean. The context is, ‘bad shit going down here.'” I handed the maps over to Izaya, Claire having to lean out of the way of the exchange.

“You know, Claire, you could say hi,” Izaya teased.

“Do you still insist that I’m a man?”

“Of course. You dated Cirno’s brother, after all.”

What Izaya meant is that my brother was gay. This was certainly a fact, which made it perplexing that he’d gotten engaged to a woman. Since she acted so manly anyway, a lot of people made fun of her over it.

Of course, Izaya spoke as if he truly believed that Claire was a man, and given the way his brain is twisted, I wouldn’t be surprised if he honestly did believe it.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say anything,” Claire responded, “so that I won’t have to jump through that fucking window and beat the shit out of you.”

“Oh? Not like your fat ass would fit…”

“WHAT?!” Claire’s entire body ignited and she tensed up with a glare that could make a strongman shit his pants. Izaya ignored it entirely.

“Anyway, Cirno, I’m having a glance at this map, and I can’t help noticing this peculiar writing all over it. Care to explain what that is?”

“It’s demon writing.”

“Ah, so you know that much. Alright, I’ll fill you in. Each of these cities is home to a corporate building of one of the world’s biggest corporations. The ‘demons,’ as you call them, are planning to use these corporations as a springboard to take over the world. Whatever your plans may be involving the demons, you’ll definitely find them at those buildings.”

“And why do you know all this?” Claire interjected, suspicious.

“Heh. I’m an information broker. I’ve gotta know everything that’s going on in this world. But more importantly…” Izaya reached into his jacket and suddenly produced a gigantic handgun, pointing it right at me through the window of the van. “I was told I’d make a bonus for eliminating anyone that knew about the demons.”

No sooner than Izaya drew his gun and said his line, Claire grabbed him by the wrist, dragged him through his window until his whole forearm was in the cab of the van, and then with a powerful blow from both sides, she broke his bone.

At this, Izaya burst into maniacal laughter.

“Ahahaha!!! I’m just kidding! No need to get so upset!”

Claire stripped the gun from his limp hand and tossed it into the back of her van, then let go of him.

“Well, Cirno, good luck with your little adventure!” As Izaya spoke, he tugged on his arm, seemingly adjusting the break in the limb. “Make sure this crazy Amazon bitch doesn’t cause you too much trouble!”

“Fuck off!” Claire barked in return, slamming her foot on the gas.

“Seeya!” I hollered as the van sped off. In the rear-view mirror, I could see Izaya waving us goodbye with his broken arm.

***

Once Cirno’s party had driven away, Izaya lifted a phone on his desk and made a call.

“Clint. Expect trouble in Houston tomorrow or the day after.”

<<Good work. We’ll forward a payment to your account.>>

The person on the other end hung up. Izaya smiled wickedly as he did the same.

I don’t remember what my first hint was, but I recall him coming to school with fresh blood stains on the arms of his shirt and wearing cut-up clothes like he’d just been in the middle of an intense swordfight. No-one else seemed to notice.

At the tender age of eleven, my life hadn’t been very exciting yet. The biggest thing that’d happened in my life was my mom accidentally getting run over by a tank. Besides that, I spent my days indoors, playing The Legend of Zelda and drawing up plans for a video game which was exactly like The Legend of Zelda.

I was mature enough at the time to realize that I’d need to make a choice. I could stay somewhat casual friends with Fullmoon and maintain my satisfactory everyday life, or I could become closer friends with him and be dragged into an entirely new world of insanity.

—I thought it was choice, anyway.

“Hey Cirno,” Fullmoon called to me after school one day in a voice that was always low and quiet, despite sounding like a child. He was staring at me in his usual manner, wherein his face was angled just a tad lower than it ought to be, yet his eyes were glaring right into mine. (If that doesn’t sound creepy enough, then you should know that Fullmoon has scarlet-colored eyes and messy black hair, and that he always wore white, button-up, long-sleeve shirts with a black bow-tie under the collar.) His sentence concluded, “wanna come over after school?”

Yes, I did technically have a choice. Fullmoon had always shown himself to be a reasonable person, so I certainly could’ve turned down his offer. But these were the circumstances:

1. I had no plans that day

2. I wasn’t thinking about it in the heat of the moment; and

3. Curiosity over what Fullmoon did after school had been gnawing at my brain for weeks.

“Sure,” I replied. We lived on the same block, so we got on the bus together and decided I’d get off at his stop.

The rest of that hour was very straightforward. Besides my anticipation until arriving at his house, there was no buildup or foreshadowing. I didn’t get left in a room while he “made some tea,” nor see a strange-looking object in a room down the hall, nor hear a muffled heartbeat from under the floorboards. I simply walked through the front door and found that the entirety of the living room was covered in blood. Floor to ceiling, furniture, everything, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood; maybe an organ or two here and there—my memory’s hazy and the room evolved a number of times over the years.

“Say, Fullmoon? Is, uh… is that blood?” I asked, very shaken, but still resolute enough to humor myself.

“Yes, Cirno. Yes it is.” And with that, he stepped into the room, took off his shoes and backpack, and plopped himself down on one of the crimson sofas. “Come on in,” he beckoned.

Upon sights like this, some people are unable to retain their rational mind. They think, “my God, this child is the spawn of hell!” or, “I’m going to be killed!” or simply, “AAAAAAAAH!!!” These, however, were not my reactions.

Sure, at first sight, I was shocked, felt my fright mechanism kick in, and started sweating a bit. But I didn’t shut down—no, rather, I was thinking more quickly than I normally would.

Okay. So.

One thing—lots of blood. What does that mean?

Fullmoon definitely killed something. I expected that.

No, a lot of things.

Okay. What? Animals? Humans? Both?

Why?

Is he crazy? Yes. Crazy how?

Is he going to kill me?

Even though we’re friends?

I didn’t have an answer to that question, but what could I do? I’d already made it clear that I had no excuse to leave. If I ran, it would be obvious that I was scared of him, and then if it turned out that he wasn’t planning to hurt me at all, I’d just look like a huge douche and ruin our friendship. Or worse, he’d decide he wanted to kill me because I ran away. No matter what, there was a high chance I could get killed, but it made more sense to stick with the option wherein I could potentially keep a good friend and not incur his wrath any further than I might’ve already.

I crossed the frame and stepped into the living room.

“What did you have in mind for us to do?” I asked, since at that point I had no clue what to do with myself. Fullmoon put his hand to his chin and seemed to be deep in thought for a second.

“What do you usually do when you visit a friend’s house?”

“Well, actually, I’ve never been to a friend’s house before.”

It was true. Throughout the early part of elementary school I was picked on because of my uncle having infamously raped and killed a girl, then gotten into a city-wide police car chase, gunning down five officers before eventually being cornered and shot over fifty times. Everyone knew he was my relative (even though I’d never spoken to the damn guy), so I never heard the end of it.

Then, when my family moved to a new town to escape the bad press while I was in the fifth grade, the aforementioned tank accident occurred, and I spent most of the year acting rather distant. Visiting the homes of friends was something I only understood from TV sit-coms.

“I see,” Fullmoon responded. “Well, what do you do at your house?”

“Mostly play video games and draw pictures.”

“Mmmmm. Sounds boring.”

“Yeah, it’s not really something to do with a friend. But instead, why don’t we do something you usually do?”

Fullmoon looked up at me (though his head was still tilted in that weird way) and flashed a smile so wicked, Malcolm McDowell would’ve been jealous. I’d seen this smile before, so it didn’t surprise me. (Fullmoon’s face only had two modes—depressingly downcast and frighteningly ecstatic.)

“Are you aware of what I do in my free time?”

“Nope.” (But I had a pretty good idea.)

“I play with knives.”

He didn’t say this with the sadism that his expression implied. I don’t think he was even aware of his face—he spoke normally.

“Exactly what do you mean by that?” I asked. I truly hate ambiguity.

“By that I mean that I have a knife, and I sharpen it, kill people with it, carve with it, et cetera.”

I couldn’t help but notice how “kill people with it” had been casually inserted into his explanation.

“Is that where all the blood comes from?” I finally asked, relieving a lot of tension in my shoulders.

“Mm, yeah, I guess. I’d say they’re two separate things, like, I enjoy playing with knives, but I also enjoy looking at this deep shade of crimson, so one hobby kind of lends to the other.”

“I see…”

“But anyway, I’m guessing that kinda stuff’s not your thing, so that’s why I didn’t say we should do it.”

Again, where I’d briefly stiffened with fear, his reasonableness calmed me back down.

“Alright; well, uh… what do you wanna do instead?”

He thought for a moment.

“Have you ever played Dungeons and Dragons?”

My eyes must’ve lit up with excitement.

“Yeah! I love D’n’D! I think we’ll need a bigger group of people if we want to play, though.”

“That’s fine—I have some acquaintances I can call and get a game together quick. Are you allowed to leave the neighborhood? Just a block down the road to a comic shop.”

“Yeah, I’ve just gotta call my dad first.”

As those words left my lips, a thought occurred to me.

Fullmoon was dialing his phone as I asked, “hey, where are your parents at, anyway?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. They’re dead.” He said this and then put the phone to his ear, cheerily conversing with his gaming buddy.

That night, for the first time, I hung out with a group of people—whom, for the next eight years, would be my closest friends. We played Dungeons and Dragons for three hours. Fullmoon was the dungeon master. It was the greatest game of D’n’D I’d ever played.

<<You’re a fucking loser. I bet you’re some forty year-old fatass jerking off while you pretend to be a woman.>>

[FUCK YOU I WILL PUT MY HEAD THROUGH THIS FUCKING MONITOR AND BITE YOUR GOD DAMN TORSO!!!]

I quickly shut down my top-of-the-line PC before I could get too pissed and chuck it out the fucking second-story window of my apartment. Whether I’m excited or not that the internet will take over the world in the next ten years, I’m not sure. The potential excites the shit out of me, but those fucking bastards that started shitting all over everything the minute they found out they couldn’t get in trouble made me want to grab the Internet itself by the throat and strangle the fucker to death.

Anyway, I’ve already gotten in trouble for hacking the shit out of guys like that, so I’m trying to keep my anger under control by shutting everything down before I blow a gasket.

Having four computers set up on my big-ass desk doesn’t really help matters, though. In the thirty-six hours I’d been awake, I’d already gotten into fights on all four of them and shut each down in succession. Usually, it wasn’t until reaching that point that I managed to get any sleep.

I rose from my seat and adjusted my tank-top and underwear. —I’m not trying to be saucy or anything by saying I was in my underwear—it’s just a necessity when you work with computers, because you don’t want to conduct static electricity. Mentioning this online is what began the argument over whether or not I was, in fact, female. I promise you that I am.

Having risen from my chair, I crossed to the other gargantuan desk in my room, which was absolutely covered in firearms. Actually, my entire room was covered in firearms from the floor to the walls, and even this bitchin’ fifty-cal rifle that I’ve got hanging from my ceiling—the same one that my ex-boyfriend of six months unfortunately used to take his own head off. How the stupid bastard pulled that one off remains the greatest mystery of my world.

After checking up on a Deagle that I’d been distracted from repairing earlier by a sudden viral attack, I decided to leave it for tomorrow and hit the bed, since it was already 5:45 AM.

Sadly, no bed was to be struck, as the doorbell then murderously chimed deep in the core of my brain. It met with the reply, “who what the fuck?!”—a product of everything inside my head having just ground to a halt in expectation of the rest it so greatly desired.

“It’s me,” said clearly the most genius fucking person, who just assumed I’d be able to recognize even my own mother’s voice at that hour of day. I guessed by the word choice it was someone I at least knew well enough to invite in, so I did (insofar as “damn, IN” was an invitation).

Who strode in with the notably evening sun behind him was none other than my baby brother, Cirno. And apparently it was 5:45 PM—my mistake.

“Claire, we’ve gotta go on an adventure,” was the complete sentence that Cirno uttered before so much as greeting me this fine evening.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I grumbled.

“I’ll give you the details later, but what matters is you’ve never seen a weapon like this before.”

Oho?

I shot up, fully awake, like I’d just taken a sip of God’s magical coffee blend, and fixed my eyes on the immediately apparent purple glowy thing in Cirno’s hands.

“Is that a fucking lightsaber?”

“No, it’s Purple Steve.”

“What’s it made of?”

“It’s a garden hose attachment that got struck by purple lightning while I was holding it.”

“It can speed up its particles and become super hot, allowing it to cut through just about anything.”

“Amazing. Is it like a sword?”

“More like a chainsaw.”

“Fuck. A. Duck. Fantastic.”

“Also, it can talk.”

“Fuck a duck? I’ve honestly never heard that one before.”

“Is that why it’s named Steve?”

“Yes. Full name Steven, technical name Purple Steve.”

“Is that what that is?”

“Can I hold it?”

“Go ahead.”

“Look, I know I’m technically genderless, but I really do prefer more humanist pronou—”

As soon as Purple Steve reached my hands, I spun in an arc and slashed him through the air, attacking a broadsoard that was hanging on my wall. The sword was melted through like butter. I whistled with admiration.

“It’s like one of the prog knives from Evangelion. I’ve always wanted one of those.”

“Steve isn’t for sale, but you can spend some time with him if you go on this adventure with us.”

“What kind of adventure are we talkin’ about here?”

“Well for starters, check this out.”

Cirno produced a big, rolled-up poster and unfurled it to reveal a map of the USA with big red Xs marked in various places.

“The long and short of it is, demons from another dimension have come to Earth and plan to conquer it, and their plans involve the cities marked on this map. I’ve got some other maps, too, but I’m gonna take them to Narita to figure out what they mean. Anyway, me and Steve are gonna track them down and put a stop to their plans!”

Whilst considering this proposition, I produced a cigarette from a pack on a nearby desk and lit it up.

“I never took you to be a moralist, Cirno.”

“Hm? I’m in this for the fun, Claire. You should know that.”

“Right, sorry. Well, that’s something I can get behind. I’m guessing you want me to load all my shit in the van and drive you guys around the country?”

“Yes. Especially that.” Cirno pointed to the rocket-propelled-grenade launcher that laid on my bed, the only weapon important enough to sleep with me every night.

“Am I gonna get paid for this?”

“No. Why, do you need it?”

“Naw, I’ve still got way more than enough of what your dumbass brother left behind. Just wanted to feel like I was getting something out of this.”

“You get to play with Purple Steve.”

“God, that sounds so disturbing…”

“Alright, I guess that’s good enough. Here,” I tossed him a key ring. “Bring the van around and let’s load this bitch up!”

—

CLAIRE ITOU HAS JOINED THE PARTY!

]]>https://cirnoandpurplesteve.wordpress.com/2011/03/23/chapter-seven-the-other/feed/3DB, Digitalguy, whatever you wan to call me.Chapter Six: Our Fortress Is Burning…https://cirnoandpurplesteve.wordpress.com/2011/03/18/chapter-six-our-fortress-is-burning/
https://cirnoandpurplesteve.wordpress.com/2011/03/18/chapter-six-our-fortress-is-burning/#commentsFri, 18 Mar 2011 02:29:38 +0000http://cirnoandpurplesteve.wordpress.com/?p=61]]>One Second: Lightning cracks and bodies roll—a shock that bursts forth from man to man to beast to man. Death is instantaneous as the brain’s wiring is reset. Bodies are already making their way to the ground.

“Whadda’ya think of this map, Steve?”

“Hard to say. Whether the Xs denote something already in place or something yet to come, we cannot know.”

“Why the hell are none of their goddamn plans written in English?!”

One Minute: I’m having fun. Just warming up—getting into the groove of these newly realized powers. Every turn of my body—every moment is the birth of a corpse. Attacks don’t have time to reach me. All are dead before they can guess that they’re in danger.

“Okay, well this X is definitely San Fransisco, and this one’s Washington D.C.; I think that one’s Houston. I don’t know the others for sure, but I’m betting they’re all major cities.”

“Their plans must involve each landmark of United States civilization. But how?”

Five Minutes: My will becomes more and more visceral, my heart colder and colder. The killing has started to feel natural—almost too easy. My enemies are no longer attacking in waves, and now carefully and tactically plot their movements. But their nerves are weak at the sight of my blood-soaked body and the carcases of their former comrades, while I am overwhelmed with confident power.

“This is why you should’ve left someone alive to interrogate.”

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry. I know a girl who knows a guy that might know something about this.”

“Wow, that sounds completely reliable.”

Thirty Minutes: I am a god of death. The survivors have lost all morale. They attack in frenzied panic and I don’t even move. I destroy them. I can’t tell which ones are pleading for mercy or trying to escape—my mounting bloodlust has reddened my eyes and all I see are targets.

“That’s it then, right? We can leave this creepy place?”

“I suppose so. I do wish that we knew what was going on out here.”

“Like I said, it’s totally a cult. I’ve seen this kinda shit on TV.”

One Hour: I stand alone over a mountain of gore. Black clouds roll on the horizon, water rushing away with the ocean of blood, lightning erupting in the sky as the gods congratulate my victory. I yell with all my might, my entire being now that of a beast who knows only how to kill.

“Jesus man, there are guts everywhere. You really overdid it, Cirno.”

“I was caught up in the moment—it couldn’t be helped. Besides, you were a big part of this.”

Steve was probably right, except my brain had already calculated my speed against the demon’s and determined how far I’d make it before I was snatched up and broken in half.

“Do something, Cirno!”

‘Do something’ indeed had to be done.

…or would’ve, were it not for a fierce rumbling in the upper atmosphere. Myself and the demon and presumably Steve all looked up to see an object in the sky, too high to identify.

Its obscurity was soon remedied by its speed and the fact that it was heading straight for us.

It looked like a meteorite or a huge hunk of metal. There wasn’t enough time to fully analyze it, because seconds later it collided with the camp site with and pulverized the earth beneath us, throwing the demon and myself (and Steve by proxy) to the ground painfully. Tremors continued to quake underfoot as I tried to stand and get a look at what happened.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. “A huge hunk of metal” indeed described what was apparently an alien space shuttle. A hatch opened atop the ship and a figure crawled from it.

“G’khrol belrfe snajgus!” The being called out with a deep and husky voice in a tongue so incomprehensible as to occupy all of the senses in effort to process it.

The demon who’d been ready to throttle me moments before rose to its feet with a stagger. The instant it turned to face the space anomaly, a green laser beam shot from the ship and melted a hole through the demon’s brain. Blood blasted from the newborn crevice and the body collapsed in a heap.

If I didn’t shit myself, I surely thought I was going to. I focused on the alien being, trying to ascribe meaning to its form, but my powers of conceptualization weren’t strong enough. I could only see another flash of green light fire in my direction, and then there was a hole in my chest.

I looked down through it curiously for the last moment that I was alive to do so.

—

I’m just fuckin’ with ya, none of that actually happened.

The beastly red creature did approach with fury, his face a clear statement of, “yes, I’m going to kill you,” his hands clenched into bulging fists. Many thoughts did race through my head—mostly a long train of swear words and frenzied panic. But what Steve said next was:

“Cirno, have you ever used a chainsaw before?”

“What?!”

“Pretend I’m a chainsaw!”

The demon was getting close. I clenched Steve’s handle with all my might. Even with his length, the demon’s arms were a lot longer than mine, so I was going to need to get in close for the attack.

Except it’s not like I knew how to fight, and in the time I spent thinking about what to do, the demon had already closed the gap between us, his enormous red fist thundering towards me in dramatic slow-motion. Instinct took over and I raised Steve in front of my face for defense.

Had Steve just been a pole, he would’ve been pummeled clean through my skull. To understand what happened instead, imagine trying to punch a chainsaw.

Having attacked with all of its strength in such an exaggerated way, the demon couldn’t cancel its momentum and found its entire arm carved down the middle. The blood which shot out was instantly evaporated in the air by the super-heated Steve, resulting in a cut so clean that when the demon and I turned to face one-another in the next moment, it looked as though his arm had always been grotesquely halved.

Unless demons just didn’t feel any pain, it was possible that Steve had fried the nerves in its arm so quickly that it didn’t feel a thing, since it went through the emotions of “bewilderment” and “anger” without taking a rest for “anguish.”

I don’t think the beast gave significant consideration to what had just occurred, since it next proceeded to attack me with its other arm, losing it in the exact same way.

Now I was facing off against a demon with disproportionately thin arms so asymmetrical that I couldn’t take them seriously. Maybe that’s what gave me the confidence to spring into action and attack the demon head-on.

Quite literally, I might add: I hoisted Steve above my head, then smashed him down on the demon’s skull. Grinding sounds reverberated from the cut as I slowly forced Steve through the full length of the demon’s body until it’d been completely split in half.

I breathed heavily with exasperation as I stood over the demon’s mercilessly butchered corpse.

“Hey, Cirno… you realize you just killed that thing, right?”

“Don’t give me that shit, Mr. ‘ever used a chainsaw.'”

“I’m just saying, we don’t even know what that guy was all about.”

“I’m at least eighty percent sure he was gonna grind my bones to make his bread.”

“Wha..?” I looked up at the camp site that was no longer a considerable distance across the horizon.

Approximately five-hundred eyes were looking back at me.

A thought crossed my mind about how when movie characters murder castle guards, there’s always a wall between them and the rest of the castle so that no one sees what’s going on. I wondered, “why don’t they put the guards on the inside of the wall? It would make it harder to figure out where they’re stationed, harder to sneak by them, and a lot harder to kill them without anyone noticing.”

“Cirno. Being as my existence is largely intangible, I have no concerns about my own safety. If you need to drop me and run, I’ll be fine.”

“…run? Who said anything about running?”

A crazy idea was worming its way into my head.

“Surely you don’t intend to fight all those people? They’ll completely gang-rape you.”

No.

That’s not right.

That’s not the real truth.

“You aren’t thinking creatively enough, Steve.”

“Meaning?”

“You’re the one who’s going to kill all of those people and demons. I’m just going to guide you towards them.”

“That’s very philosophical Cirno, but—”

“You don’t understand. Electricity is a force to be reckoned with, Steve. Did you know that if a human is struck by lightning, they’re pretty much dead? Or that electricity easily travels at… well, lightning speed between objects? I used you to cut Tape Man in half because your shape naturally made me think of a sword; but in truth, I can think of a million ways to use your power.”

“That sounds great and all, but in this situation, the numbers are simply overwhelming. Plus, they’re already walking creepily towards us—we don’t have time to plan out all of these—”

“Shut up, Steve.”

Steve was silent.

“Let me tell you a little story. When I was in tenth grade, I was failing most of my classes. My teachers thought I should be taking lower-level courses, and other kids made fun of me because they thought I was stupid. But I didn’t care. To me, the drawings that I spent my class time on were far more important than any of those people or any of that schoolwork.

One day, my dad was giving me the usual speech about his disappointment in my grades, because he refused to believe that even if I was really passionate about drawing, it was worth failing out of school for. I understood the way he felt—after all, his thinking was totally different from mine. But then he said that if my grades didn’t pick up, he was going to pull me out of school and make me start working to pay rent.”

The demon/human army was getting closer.

“And let me tell ya, that pissed me off. That wasn’t a part of the plan. Suddenly, I didn’t have a choice—I’d be thrown into the real world, and I didn’t want that. So I got angry.”

My grip tightened.

“I decided that if I was gonna do it, I was gonna completely destroy it! I was gonna rock the system down to its foundation and beat it at its own game! I’d outdo everyone’s expectations and reset the definition of their existence! I made a complete turn-around. I abandoned sleep altogether and joined as many classes and clubs and special projects as humanly possible. I graduated with above a four-point-O GPA and was class valedictorian. I had scholarships to every college you can think of. They even had me give the speech at my class graduation. Do you know what I said?”

I’d never been all that attached to my way of life. It’s not that I disliked it or anything—I was quite happy before Purple Steve landed in my hands. I just didn’t care so much about it that I’d fight to protect it or choose it over better options.

Leaving that life behind was an easy decision; there wasn’t much to tie me back. I felt a little bad about leaving the yard project half-finished, but I hadn’t wanted to start it to begin with, so it wasn’t a big deal. The prospective life of adventure awaiting me was far more appealing.

I loaded up a backpack with snacks and drinks and a couple changes of clothes. Nathaniel was strapped over my shoulder, and I’d made a belt holster out of shoestrings for Purple Steve. I stuffed my pockets with a wallet, a Game Boy, and Pokemon Red, Zelda: Link’s Awakening, Castlevania II, Kirby’s Dream Land 2, and Super Mario Land. I was all set for a journey through the desert.

Soon, Steve and I were roaring down Route 95, blasting Gimme Shelter by The Rolling Stones from the stereo.

“I’m starting to sense the space-time anomalies even more powerfully out here.”

I had the windows down and wore aviator sunglasses while smoking a cigarette.

“How’ll we know if we pass the spot?”

“My readings are very accurate. I should easily be able to pinpoint the location of the incident. That said, it’s becoming apparent that there’s a lot more anomalous activity going on in this area.”

“Rrre-he-he-heally, now~”

I tossed my cigarette out the window and gunned the engine, hauling ass like an angry woman.

“Holy shit, Cirno—this is a lot bigger than I expected. There must be a large gathering of Furrow Dubs nearby.”

“Call ’em demons. It seriously sounds much better.”

“Fine, whatever.”

Only a few minutes passed before Purple Steve spoke up again.

“Okay, turn off the road on the right side and head in a straight line, and we should get there before long.”

“Cool shit.”

I rolled off the road and made it a good ten yards before I had to stop again.

“Why’d you stop?”

” ‘Cause this Geo Metro won’t last five minutes in the desert.”

I geared myself up and stepped from the tiny car to trek the barren sands.

—

“Agh… no! Shit! God damn it, Bowser, you fat fucking bastard…”

“Cirno, we’re getting close.”

“Hold on one minute, I’ve almost… GOD DAMN IT!”

I turned off the Game Boy with fury and looked ahead. In the far-off distance, I could make out what looked like a huge campsite.

“What’s all that now?”

“The readings are definitely coming from that camp. That’s where we need to head.”

“What should I be expecting when we get there?”

“Who knows? Trouble, I’d wager.”

I withdrew Purple Steve from his belt holster and gripped his handle tightly.

“Alright Steve, let’s do this.”

The closer we got, the larger the camp appeared to be. There were tents upon tents in a huge group, like people camping out at a rock festival. When we were close enough to make out the people walking around, our first big surprise came.

We saw humans and demons walking together.

“The plot thickens…”

“Cirno, come to think of it, there’s not a whole lot to keep them from noticing our approa—”